In the Infantry
by DamonIsa
Summary: War is hell. Explosive shells fly through the air, fires burn, and heavy armor rolls over the land, trampling everything in their path. The life of a footsolider is considered an expendable commodity.


In the Infantry

An Advance Wars Fan Fiction, By Jonathan J. Jordan, for use only. Copyright 2005 by Jonathan Jordan.

This work starts before the beginning of the first game. A lot of liberties have been taken with things that frankly, aren't mentioned in the game. I did what I thought would fit the best, and make the most sense in the context of the game's world. So basically, if you don't like it, well, tough.

Advanced Wars is copyrighted by Nintendo. This fanfiction however is mine, and mine alone.

Prologue

Letters

Ain't no one knows what drives a man to attack another man. Sure lots of reasons are thrown out, revenge, greed, covering up some shortcoming or another. But it's all scuttlebutt. No one really knows why this is happening, why they fight.

Don't even really know why I'm fighting I suppose. Guess I could just lay down my rifle, run back to Ariel. With all the going ons, I'm sure no one would miss me. I could run back, stay with you Janice.

But I stay. I look down at your picture, from that day on the ridge, beneath the willow tree. I don't know if what I'm doing is right. Don't know if what they're doing is really that wrong. Everything here is so muddled. I signed up in an instance, thinking I was defending you, defending right.

Now I'm farther from home than I have ever been. Surrounded by draftees I barely know. I haven't killed yet though. But still I've seen things. Things that make me wonder if we're really any better. I won't be talking about them. Don't want to give you any nightmares. Just ask that you pray for me, that I might forget these things, and never have to take part.

The CO's coming now all in a fuss. Seems they're making another push. We don't got anything left to fight them off with. Another retreat is coming up. This means dodging bullets and shells while scrambling for the transports, knowing we'd have to sprint through the fields, with the enemy on our heels if we don't make it.

Mail carrier's coming… no more time. I'll be home soon, gods willing.

_Silias Cross_

You know I worry about you. I really wish you wouldn't tell me things like that.

But I suppose all things considered, I'm glad to be hearing from you. I hope you're still alive, still well. I pray for you everyday, asking that you be kept safe, out of combat, and that soon you'll get your discharge papers. The war can't go on forever after all.

I know it's not much, but I sent you something, a little taste of home. I hope it warms your heart in these strange places you are stationed in. Hope it gets there in time and doesn't go sour.

Everyone in the neighborhood is pulling for you. We all look forward to the day when you make it back from the front. Especially Alice, as I'm sure you can tell. We even managed to pool some money, get you a home, and a good job for when you return.

Good luck Silias, come home, and be safe.

_Janice Cross_

Thanks. The kit you sent really meant a lot. Not just to me, but to all the guys here. Lots of them got sweet people back home like you. It was like a real holiday here when the packages came in. We were all sharing little treats and tidbits, swapping stories about back home, and the people there waiting for us. Even had a little feast and a dance with some of the locals here. It wasn't until later I realized it was Harvest Day. Seems fitting, despite knowing we might have to fight in a moment, I gotta say it was the best holiday I ever had, maybe ever will have. But I'm willing to try to one up it when I get back home.

Gods I miss you all. Especially Alice, heh, I had almost worried that Drake stepped up while I'm gone, but if he has, it sounds like she didn't have any of it. I hope she broke his arm at the very least.

That place sounds wonderful. I can't wait to see it, see all of you. Good news on that front though. The CO was telling us the other day that some new hotshot guys were coming in from the academy. Some tactician and kid CO fresh outta officer's training, along with some new regulars for the army. Can't say I think too much of their chances, but I wish them luck. Rumor is when they come in we're all getting our papers.

I'm trying to control myself, not get too worked up about going home. Some of the guys here, for them home was in the east, there ain't a home to go to. Kinda makes me appreciate these letters, and knowing you're all out there even more.

Two weeks seems to be the best guess before the fresh meat comes in. Two weeks more, and I'll be out of here. If I lasted this long, I'm sure I can go two more weeks.

Tell Alice I miss her, and that I'm coming home soon.

_Silias Cross_

From the Desk of Secretary Markham

War Department of the Orange Star Republic

I regret to inform you that upon 12 October of this year, the 127th Militia Regiment engaged the Blue Moon invasion forces. Casualties were heavy, many good men were lost including Pvt. First Class Silias Cross, who fought valiantly defending the city of Richfield from advancing forces when his unit came under artillery fire. Nothing was left behind after the explosions, Silias Cross and his unit are currently listed as MIA.

I offer my sincere condolences in this time of crisis. Just know that he gave his life, so others may live theirs. Silias Cross was a hero until the very end. A true soldier. May you take comfort in that fact, and carry on his memory forever.

_Markham_

_Secretary of War Department_

Chapter One

Dead Cold

Snow drifted down, falling gently upon the winter gear of the soldiers on the ground, their rifles and vehicles. It didn't take long, before everything in the mountain pass was covered in a layer of white, hiding the war torn landscape, the tracks of men and vehicles, and the blood and bodies of those that had fallen. Scrapped vehicles were slowly becoming hills of ice and snow, their smoldering heaps slowly fading from sight and memory.

In this deepening chill, one man shivered, rubbing his arms, trying to build up some heat beneath his heavy coat. His friend smiled, lighting up a cigarette, and taking a deep breath, "You really ought to take up drinking, or smoking, or something. You look so cold and miserable. Need to learn how to relax," the smoking man said, nodding his head slowly.

I shook my head slowly, breathing onto my hands to keep them warm, "No. You need to stay sharp out here. Drink dulls you, smoke relaxes you. And the moment you're not at your peak..." I trailed off, waving my hand through the cold air. The meaning was clear. One slip, that's all it took, and in that one moment, everything could change.

"Besides, someday that's going to kill you," the statement brought a nervous, deep, long laughing fit to both men. Their laughter grated on the nerves of the other, younger seeming faces in the squadron, nestled about a small corpse of trees.

"Rookies…" both of them muttered, a combination of a curse and a sigh, shaking their heads at the men clutching their rifles, their eyes darting back and forth, ears pricked constantly for the slightest noise. Karst hardly blamed them though. As much as he talked about not dulling his senses, not dropping his guard he knew enough that quiet moments were rare, you had to relax just a little, remind yourself you were human, and enjoy it while you could. Otherwise, well, then you burn out. Become one of those guys that frags an officer, goes off to prison for life.

He frowned watching those young shoulders, Zvi was a good man, served since near the beginning of the invasion, seen a lot of battle, killed a lot of men. He knew how to handle himself. Despite his usual calm demeanor, Karst had seen him gun down an entire squad himself. If Zvi wasn't here, he might have been as nervous and crazed as those recruits as well.

"Relax…" Zvi intoned at those three fidgety recruits. Each of them seemed to act as if struck at the quiet, soothing tone he tried to put in his voice. Mental note, never let my eyes off the kids, or they might just roll a grenade into Zvi's sleeping bag.

"But Sarge… there's no way out. Snowed in… they'll catch us…"

"Do you think I'm a moron?" Zvi cut them off, "I'm well aware of our situation. And the weather," he slashed the air with his hand, silencing further protests, showing some steel that I hardly ever saw in his body language, other than when he was killing. Immediately the kids snapped to attention, shutting their mouths and shelving their protests.

"Armor can't travel very well in this weather… and last report said there wasn't any armor deployed here. Hell, we're entrenched here, great defensive positions, we can handle any infantry that come by. Just calm down, enjoy the quiet while you can…"

His heavy glare shut down any further arguments, and with that, it was over. Sure there were holes in his logic I could think of. Things I knew, and I knew Zvi knew, after this long campaign. A few trees, some rifles, was a paltry defense against what awaited us out there.

Nothing a man could do however, other than pray the snows let up, that supplies and reinforcements come through, that luck holds up, and somehow you live to fight another day.

And thus we settled in for the night, taking turns for the watch, and to watch the watch for the signs of murderous insanity. War does funny things to good men.

It was in the predawn light that I heard one of the most terrifying sounds. I had seen a lot in the war against the invading Blue Moon forces, but few things compared with the raw, close power of heavy armor grinding closer and closer. Zvi's calming words be damned, they both knew that the Blues were well equipped for a mobile, winter war. That's how they broke the mountain border, striking in the thick of winter. That's how they had pushed us this far. That's how come the regiment here was completely cut off, like dozens of other pockets of resistance he had heard of.

Everyone was awake, the three recruits looked ready to faint away, as our eyes tracked the blue-white tanks traveling down the road. There were five of them, moving in a line, and from the way the turrets were pointed, two ahead, one to each side, one behind, they were well prepared for an ambush.

I could see the signs in one of them. He was shaking uncontrollably, not from the cold, but from the fear. Sweat was beading on his brow, his hands twitched constantly. His eyes were locked on the barrel of the lead tank. He saw his death, he was scared. He would probably be useless in this fight.

Zvi stepped up, taking command swiftly. A few silent gestures and the bazookas were armed. Four of us knelt down in the snow, under the trees. He gestured silently and we all aimed at our tanks, spotting that spot where the turret meets the armor, the weak spot that could just shatter under accurate fire from our shoulder mounted cannons.

Concerns about the rookies, about Zvi, or the cold melted away, as I focused through that sight, seeing the black crosshairs shaking with my breathing, my pulse, and every minor twitch as it hovered over the armor. Always coming closer, ever so closer.

There was a rustle to the left. The nervous recruit, I could feel him fidgeting, looking for something. All I could do was pray that he kept his head, and kept down and quiet. He was in no shape to fight. None of us really were. Just had to hope the armor went and passed us by with no trouble…

And there it was. Rookies…

The man broke. Snapped like a twig in a tornado. He charged out of the forest before anyone could grab him, firing his bazooka at the lead tank. The shot was off, slamming against the armor, burning, but not a kill shot, as the turret of the third tank swung towards him, about to pick him off with a 15 mm shell.

He froze in his tracks, his bazooka falling from nerveless fingers to lie in the snow. Tank 3, which was my call, my target. Save the kid, and draw us all into the fight, or watch him die because he was human and scared.

It wasn't a hard choice, not for me. It might not have been a smart choice, but it was never hard.

The trigger was pulled, there was a flash, a whoosh as the explosive round screamed through the air, finding that sweet spot with a fiery explosion, shattering the join and killing the crew inside. The turret stopped, the man was alive for another moment.

Three more bursts, and I watched those tanks light up like the morning sun. Two were clean kill shots, especially Zvi's, which must have caught the ammunition inside, for it continued to explode and burn long after it should have. One just splashed harmlessly against the armor though, leaving a damaged fourth, and a fresh fifth tank for us.

"RELOAD!" Zvi screamed out the order, but it wasn't necessary, well trained bodies and hands already were pulling out another round, loading out heavy weapons. Zvi was screaming still, screaming to that lone rookie soldier out there, screaming for him to get down, get back to the forest. He stood up, machine gun in hand, spraying the turrets with lead, keeping those machine guns that could slice through the kid like butter silent.

Finally the kid dropped, cowering in the snow, his knees pulled tightly to his chest, his hands blocking out the sounds of machine gun fire and the armor with his hands. A call came from my right, "Fire Four!" with another whoosh. The rocket seemed to be traveling in slow motion, its trajectory easily tracked by the eye. Off target, it slammed into the tank, ripping a hole through the weakened steel. I could see men scrambling with fire extinguishers inside, trying to save their lives. The struggle lasted for only a moment before I heard Zvi's fire die down. He pulled a pin, a shadow screaming through the burning hole. A flash, then the tank was deadly quiet as the fire started up again.

The last rookie and I both called out "Fire Five," as we hastily mounted our bazookas, aiming for the last tank, its gun almost in line now to rain death and destruction upon us. The two rockets lauched, mine before his. Streaming through the air they flew true, but only a second too late, as the thundering boom of the main cannon sounded, seeming to shake my very bones.

All that was left of the tank was a smoldering shell, slowly being covered by the snowfall. Just like everything else was, including the crater left behind by the tank's blast. Within I knew was the shattered body of that recruit, the crazy one, the one I never learned the name of. The one I never bothered to know.

It hurt, it always hurt, and as soon as this was over, I was certain I'd pay for it. But for now he was pushed aside, locked away in my mind with many other faces I would never see in this life again.

The bazooka fell in the snow and my battle rifle was in hand again, feeling so cold it numbed my fingers and my pain. I felt the snow crunch under my booted feet. My eyes were roaming, constantly looking for reinforcements. The fire, the smoke would be seen for miles I knew. It was only a matter of time before the Blues came for us.

Zvi and I met. We stood near the rim of the crater, the snow blasted away, the dirt charred, and looked at the body within. It wasn't the man I remembered. It never would be. He was burned, sundered, left as only a hollow shell of who he once was. His gear was blasted off, burned away, his skin seared and raw. His hair was gone, his legs, his left arm. Still he breathed, long, raspy, rattling breaths. He was alive, but dying out in the cold.

Zvi raised his machine gun, and shot him, between what was left of his eyes, ending those raspy breaths, the rattling whimpers, and the clawing at the ground with raw and bleeding fingers.

And it was quiet. It was cold, not even the burning tanks seemed to make a noise, or o shed any warmth over the snow fields. I knew we would have to explain to the new men. Have to explain what happened, had to explain why we shot him. Then, they wouldn't be rookies anymore. Those nerves, those wild eyes would be replaced by the cold dead mask of a dog of war.

To Be Continued...


End file.
